


Nothing to Declare

by out_there



Category: Sports Night
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-02-11
Updated: 2005-02-11
Packaged: 2017-10-15 12:54:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/161002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/out_there/pseuds/out_there
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Casey's worried about screwing this up.  Dan's confident.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nothing to Declare

**Author's Note:**

> [](http://speshope.livejournal.com/profile)[**speshope**](http://speshope.livejournal.com/) requested Sports Night, any pairing, using the phrase: "A wise, gay man once said, _'A man can be happy with any woman as long as he does not love her'._ " (The wise gay man being Oscar Wilde.) Thanks to [](http://phoebesmum.livejournal.com/profile)[**phoebesmum**](http://phoebesmum.livejournal.com/) for proof-reading.

Casey was sitting on the couch, one foot tucked under him, with an old scrapbook open on his lap. Someone who didn't know him very well would think he was trying to avoid work. Someone who knew Casey well would *know* he was avoiding work. And that there was something behind the trip down Memory Lane. There was always a reason.

"You know, when Dana said, 'Get into that office and don't come out until you've finished tonight's script', I actually thought you'd be working."

Casey shrugged. "Shows what you know."

Dan perched on the arm of the couch. Leaning over Casey's shoulder, he saw that the book contained newspaper cuttings, blurbs about Lone Star and its new hosts. "I didn't know you still kept that stuff."

"I promised my mom."

"Really?" Dan snickered, just imagining Mrs McCall giving Casey instructions on keeping a scrapbook. Knowing Casey's mom, they were probably numbered, with the occasional bullet point.

Casey rolled his eyes. "Your mom still sends you cookies."

"Have you ever had a better peanut butter cookie? Ever?"

"Not to mention her chocolate chip cookies," Casey replied with a slightly hungry grin. "I wonder if there's any at the craft services table."

"You know their cookies." Dan grimaced. "You don't want to try them. No scrapbook can be that depressing."

"Who says I'm depressed?"

Dan stood up, wincing at the pins and needles in his ankle. The other side of the couch was a far more comfortable seat. "You're not exactly jumping for joy over here."

"I was ... thinking," Casey replied in a very unconvincing tone.

"About?"

"About Texas. About Lone Star." Casey sighed and shut the scrapbook. "About Lisa."

Dan hmmm'd, and wondered how he should handle this. If left alone, Casey could mope for hours, and Moping-Casey wasn't good for the show. "A wise, gay man once said, 'A man can be happy with any woman as long as he does not love her'."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning that you could have been happy with Lisa," Dan said carefully, "if you didn't love her. If you really didn't care, you probably could have faked it enough to keep her happy."

Casey frowned and ducked his head, looking like a hurt five year old. "I really loved her, you know. And before Dallas, we were pretty happy."

Dan took a deep breath and reminded himself that if you were sleeping with anyone over eighteen, dealing with ex-lovers came with the territory. It almost made eighteen years olds look appealing, until you factored in that they were, you know, *eighteen*. "And?"

"And then there was Dallas, and I screwed it up."

"Casey, there is no way in hell that the divorce was completely your fault," Dan started vehemently, but stopped when Casey shook his head.

"That's not what I mean ..." Casey trailed off. Dan waited, because Casey didn't talk about this sort of stuff often. There was no telling when Casey would have the sudden urge to share again. "We were really in love, and then it got screwed up. Five years of dating, five years of happy marriage, and then within six months it was effectively dead. We spent the next five years going through the motions, politely avoiding each other as much as possible, but I don't think either of us was happy."

Dan reached over, and rested a hand on Casey's thigh. "I wouldn't say so, no."

"I was thinking, ten years of happiness, and then I screwed it up." Casey blinked down at his hands. "We've been friends for ten years, Danny."

"You think it's the hot monkey sex that's going to screw us up?" Casey's jaw dropped and he stared at Dan. Dan grinned. Shocked-Casey was far more fun than Self-Doubting-Casey. "Because, really. Making me scream? Not a bad thing."

"I didn't mean that," Casey replied and then lowered his voice to hiss, "and can I point out, we're *in* the office?"

"So?"

"So you never know when Natalie's going to appear and there are some things that I personally don't want to have to explain to her."

"She's a bright girl. I think she'd figure most of it out for herself. No diagrams necessary." He leaned a little closer to Casey. "You, on the other hand, need diagrams."

Casey frowned. "Are you implying she's smarter than me?"

"I'm implying you're a relationship-idiot. There's a couple things you've got to understand about your divorce," Dan said and squeezed Casey's thigh quickly. "Firstly, I'm not Lisa. I don't want the same things from you that she wanted. Secondly, the divorce was not all your fault, regardless of how much of a jerk you can be. She showed no interest in your career. No support. She was cold, man."

Casey nodded slightly and Dan grinned. He kept talking. "Thirdly, I'm not Lisa. I know I said that before, but it's an important point, Casey. The key word in the phrase 'wise, gay man' is gay. Regardless of what kind of woman Lisa was, there's still the underlying fact that she was, in fact, a woman."

Casey flushed a little, the typical McCall reaction to any serious discussion of sex. "Danny --"

"Tell me, stand up and tell me, that you ever felt for her the way you feel for me." Dan smirked, because, damn it, he could make smug look sexy. Plus, as much as Casey might fumble around the words, Dan already knew it was true. "Tell me that you were happier with her, and then I'll take this worry seriously."

Looking him in the eye, Casey said quietly, "You know I wasn't."

Dan had to fight the victory smile that threatened to break across his face. "You need to face some things, Casey. I'm not going anywhere. I'm not going to let you screw this up. And you are gay. Gay as a really, really gay man."

"Nice simile," Casey replied with the hint of a grin.

"Gay as a pink tutu?" Danny tried hopefully, and Casey started to snigger. "Gay as a rainbow-colored flag? Or … Oh, I've got it."

Casey tried to keep a straight face. "Really?"

"Gay as Oscar Wilde."

"Yeah?" Casey asked, laughing.

"The similarities are there. Witty, eloquent, charming," Dan listed easily. "And really, really gay."

"Thank you. I think."

"But as Oscar Wilde-like as you are, Dana is still going to kick your butt if you don't get tonight's script done. You know she'll ask for it soon."

Casey grinned and tucked the scrapbook under the couch. "Then I'll just have to tell her that I have nothing to declare but my genius."

"Or maybe you should sit down, type it up, and then tell her it's done?" Dan pulled his hand away from Casey's leg, with just a slight tinge of regret. "That way, you don't have to prove that you have nothing to declare."

"I could declare my genius."

"Judging by the last half hour," Dan teased, "you really have *nothing* to declare."


End file.
